


And Nothing Changes, Would You Believe

by Antheaisarealname



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternative title: Sisko Is About to Get a Headache, Dukat is not exactly dead but he is not alive either, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29265594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antheaisarealname/pseuds/Antheaisarealname
Summary: In the Fire Caves of Bajor, Gul Dukat dreams of a Perfect Moment. A provident man never leaves his Shri-tal to the last minute.
Relationships: Mekor Dukat & Dukat
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14
Collections: Star Trek: Just in Time Fest





	And Nothing Changes, Would You Believe

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: there are a couple of gory details concerning Dukat's stay in the Fire Caves, nothing too explicit but look out for the part after the first separation line.

Linear time only made sense to some species.

Humans. Klingons. Vulcans, possibly. But not Cardassians.

The best description a human could approximate of the Cardassian concept of time would be a perpetually spinning yo-yo; each life was an orderly course that became clearer with every round, focus points changing ever so slightly.

Cardassians do not believe in the future in the same way humans do. Or, more accurately, they do not see the future as something distant, to be found while running through a far-reaching road, a surprise laying ahead. The future, for them, is another spin of the yo-yo: a set of measured circumstances that is immediately absorbed into the tight spiral of their brains, as if it was always part of them.

Everything was and yet is, just a short spin away. The pain is always fresh. The joy is constantly bubbling just beneath the surface, to be reawakened by the appropriate tug. Every single moment of a Cardassian's life is readily available, held on a tight leash.

Most Cardassians held no knowledge whatsoever of human games and toys (although at least 2 of them could confidently identify a baseball) and would not recognize a yo-yo if it started reciting quotes from "The Never-Ending Sacrifice", but other species more in tune with human culture seemed to appreciate the explanation. 

The fact is, Cardassians are not programmed for forgetting. That action, so natural for humans, would mean decreasing the mass of the yo-yo, thinning the ever-so-precious string, unbalancing the whole apparatus. Forgetting was not an option; due to the circumstances, forgiveness also came with some difficulty. The ritual of Shri-tal saw to that, each enemy's secret, family grievance, and necessary vengeance bubbling up in the last minutes of one's life, to be eaten and digested by the remaining living relatives. Yo-yos could only grow heavier and if strings ended up not matching their weight, well… those were unfortunate circumstances.

Gul Dukat, one of the 2 baseball connoisseurs, had never encountered a yo-yo but, had he heard that his life was being compared to one, would have insisted it be made of some precious metal and emblazoned with his family's crest. And that yo-yo would have been among the heaviest of its kind.

A less than kind observer might have labeled the Dukats opportunists, but kindness never held a particular appeal to Cardassians, while opportunities were everything. The Dukats managed to not only stay afloat among the waves of Cardassian plots but to actively flourish by never limiting their scope of action. Many built unnecessary walls due to traditions, family ties, alliances, morals... That constituted a sure path towards failure. There was no reason why today's ally could not be tomorrow's enemy or vice versa. Truth be told, such teaching was the bread and butter of any high class Cardassian worth their salt; the jump in quality was made by never allowing one's preconceived ideas to interfere.

Games could be won with the help of the most unthinkable players, after all, but one had to be open to asking. In practice, it meant that you were never too good for anyone or anything. It was, of course, a delicate balance to maintain, for the one thing all Dukats believed through the centuries was that they were better than anyone else. It was a perfectly acceptable, even encouraged belief... provided none of the pawns realized it. Aristocratic origins and immense fortune notwithstanding, the Dukats were men of the people, hiding their disgust for the have-nots behind a genial smile. 

Like any other father, Gul Dukat worried that all of his family's _savoir-faire_ , polished to perfection over centuries, would be lost to the next generation following his unfortunately premature demise.

* * *

Linear time only made sense to some species.

Humans and Bajorans alike would have gone mad after an eternity of falling into an inferno, the searing heat of the flames scorching their body, the enraged screeches of the Pah-wraiths drilling a hole in their skulls, while flesh bubbled and blistered and the eyes boiled in their sockets.

Gul Dukat was only mildly inconvenienced. This was just another swing, a new condition easily blended into the continuum of his life. His mind could be there for the whole duration or not, but it made little difference, as the experience had been digested following the first minute of it and incorporated into the creature that was Gul Dukat. It had always been in Gul Dukat, he just hadn't known it yet.

 _Let me guess, this is a convoluted way of saying that your destiny was set in stone and all of this is not really your fault,_ sneered Major Kira in her own special bland of disgust _._

 _As usual, you Bajorans completely miss the point,_ Damar countered. _We might not know what comes our way, but once we experience something, it becomes a part of us forever. Cardassian minds are far superior to those of other species, we never forget what we learned and time never dulls our memory of an event. Our lives are all around us and yet we are reborn every minute._

 _A yo-yo,_ hummed Weyoun, who knew all kinds of human toys because he'd made it a point to look them up _. Cardassians and their heavy, shiny yo-yos. But is life the act of spinning or the toy that results out of it? A yo-yo that has been spun is not the same as one that hasn't been. Does the yo-yo differentiate between the 10th spin or the 100th? Or is it the direction, the rhythm, the speed that leaves a scar?_

Gul Dukat stopped listening to his companions' inane blabber and went briefly back to his son Mekor's 12th birthday. So much better than the 11th. He then returned to what most species would call the "now" and was welcomed by the Pah'wraiths' wailing. It was less loud than usual.

He contemplated the flames he kept falling into. They kept rushing at him, but the heat was almost bearable. A Dukat could always recognize a Moment when it came their way and the Gul felt a familiar tingling. He smiled.

* * *

**_Gravity throw sounds intimidating, but it's actually the proper description of the up and down movement the yo-yo makes after being thrown._ **

Down went the old, wizened body, slammed to the ground with force, dirtying the red sand with purple blood. A lanky black-clad figure cocked their head to the side, in silent observation. When they were sure the body would never get up again, they gave a satisfied nod, carefully cleaned and pocketed the obsidian blade, and moved from the merciless sun to the relative darkness of a devastated building.

Most buildings on Cardassia Prime were in tatters. The once-proud Union was now prostrated in the dirt, each and every day brought lower by a corrupted government in cahoots with her enemies. Soon that would come to an end.

The figure moved with ease through dilapidated corridors, memory guiding their steps. Another image, bright and colorful and happy supplanted the destruction for a few moments; a common occurrence in the minds of Cardassians who every minute of every day were confronted with the dichotomy of history and present. Buildings were there and yet they weren't. Loved ones were alive and yet not.

The study was mostly intact. By design, it was sturdier than the rest of the mansion, to better guard its secrets. The soft light filtering through the holes in the ceiling bathed the dark silhouette as it touched a hidden mechanism, descended into a suddenly revealed trapdoor, and re-emerged in the span of a few seconds.

The figure moved into one of the cones of sunlight and carefully studied the retrieved datarod. Its image matched perfectly the one branded in his memory. He nodded, satisfied. Dukats were famous for recognizing perfect Moments, but part of the reason they were so good at seizing them was that they constantly prepared for them. A provident man never leaves a Shri-tal to the last minute.

**_The Sleeper consists of throwing the yo-yo towards the ground and keeping it there, spinning at the end of its string until it is time to jerk it up again. While it is a basic yo-yo trick, it's the foundation of more complex tricks and an important skill to master._ **

Retreating back to the shadows, the figure retrieved a pad from their pocket and carefully inserted the data rod in it. The pad whirred to life, its monitor a white window into another future. A better future, for the Dukats and the Union. A delicate claw tapped the monitor. Dark letters appeared on it, in Bajoran characters: the _Book of the Kosst Amojan_. Or, in mentally translated Cardassian, _Father’s Get Out of Jail Card_.

_**A regeneration is a yo-yo technique that regenerates the spin of the yo-yo so that it can continue to spin without having to be caught and thrown again.** _

Standing in the ruins of his father's study, Mekor Dukat smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Feedback is extremely appreciated!


End file.
